You Found Me
by AwkwardPorpoise
Summary: Alfred has lost everything-his home, his money, his family, everything. And he has no one and nothing to blame but his own stupidity. Until one day, a kind young man offers a hand. Alfred begins adjusting to his new life with a charming yet awkward young englishmen, but he can't run from his past forever... AU. AlfredxArthur(USUK) WARNING: This story will contain rape
1. Chapter 1

The dark bit of clouds visible through the top of the alleyway seemed to be stalking Alfred. No matter where he ran and what he crouched under, they followed him, drenching him in their ever-spiteful tears. They'd refused to leave, stretching and growing until they'd concealed the entire sky in their cloak. Alfred couldn't even remember the color of the sky or recall the last time he'd seen his shadow. Even it had left him, the only company he'd had in months. It hadn't left all at once—instead it slowly faded, day by day becoming lighter and lighter until Alfred looked down and found his shadow had become one with the gray mist and what dull light filtered through the endless clouds. He missed it. It was someone to talk to at least, someone who would sit and listen and never disagree or scold him or remind him of how he'd single-handedly torn his life to shreds.

As the rain pricked his skin and left his clothes a sopping mess, Alfred sighed and looked up lazily. He figured it didn't matter if he got wet anymore. He was tired of trying to stay dry, tired of running from the inevitable downpour. As he listen to the rain splatter against the gutters and breathed the scent of the moist earth, he figured it didn't matter anymore. There was no place for him to return, nowhere to dry off after a long day in the rain. No bed but the ground, no blanket but what mud was splattered across him by passing cars. And no one to blame but himself.

He'd been greedy, making too many mistakes with the wrong kind of people and ended up losing everything in the process. He absently picked at the burnt sleeve of his jacket, remembering as he enter his raided house, the entire structure robbed of everything and anything that could've be used for profit. He searched the barren house, but all that'd been left was the locket from his brother that he'd hidden under a loose floorboard by the stairs. It wasn't until he was upstairs that he noticed the trail of gasoline. He just barely managed to escape before his entire house was engulfed, the culprits cheering from the other side as Alfred fled, running as far as he could from the flames before the bastards noticed he wasn't inside.

He brought his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply and removing his glasses, failing to dry the droplets that had collected on them. He shoved them in his pocket, a dull click registering in his ears as they collided with the locket. He took it out and examined it, dangling the gold before his blurry eyes. He'd considered selling it, just to make some money to restart his life, but rather quickly discarded such a heartless thought. His brother didn't make much as is and went to a lot of trouble to get something so luxurious for him. Alfred had hid it away after accumulating quite a substantial debt to keep this little gift away from the grubby hands that plagued him.

The cold had seeped through his clothes and clung to his skin, numbing him. The thick rain concealed everything, even the blinding lights across the street. The world was blurred around him, cutting him from society and leaving him to wallow in his own private hell. The cold began to sting, each drop leaving behind a prick of pain. Alfred slipped the locket back in his pocket and closed his eyes, pushing his head back and wishing for it to stop. Not just the rain, but everything. The hum to engines, the slosh of shoes, the mumbles to strangers as they passed without so much as a glace of sympathy, the annoying stutter in his chest that was his heart. It hurt. All he felt anymore was pain or numbness or some balance between the two. He hated it. He was tired. He was ready to give up, to let the struggling thumps in his chest cease, to release himself and become one with the cold. There was nothing for him. No one to turn to. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Excuse me? Would you like some assistance?"

The rain stopped above him and an accented voice spoke, curiosity compelling him to open his eyes. A thin figure stood over Alfred, holding an umbrella above his head. It was a man, wrapped in a fluffy cloak with mud-coated boots, a scarf wrapped around his mouth that highlighted bright green eyes and a mop of blonde hair. Alfred couldn't quite distinguish much more than color as his vision was still obscured and his rain-coated glasses wouldn't be much help at the moment. Realizing the man was waiting for an answer, Alfred waved his hand dismissively.

"M'fine," he mumbled, dropping his gaze. "Don't need any help"

"Come now, a poor bloke sitting in a rain this heavy's either mad or drunk, and you don't look like a looney to me. Bet you could you some help home."

Alfred felt a smile tug at his lips. "Well, ya'd lose that bet. I ain't got a home to go to."

The blonde narrowed his eyes. "You want me to believe a man looking like you is homeless?"

Alfred chuckled. True, he didn't exactly _look _homeless. A little beat up, sure, but his clothes were still intact and fairly clean. He looked back up at the blonde and grinned. "Well, I'm pretty new to this whole thing. Thought you were supposed to sit in the rain and look and sad and get funny looks from all the passersby that've still got their cash. Folks like you aren't supposed to pay us any attention." He mock scowled and placed his hands on his hips. "What're you doin' breakin' the status quo?"

The blonde grinned at that, or so Alfred assumed by the way his eyes softened. "Well I'm not as heartless as the rest of you yanks."

Alfred brought his knees up and rested his elbows against them. "Better change fast. You're gettin' funny looks." The man turned to look out of the alley as people continued to shuffle past, quickly turning their suspicious eyes away as they met the man's gaze. Alfred waved his hand again.

"Go on. You've done your good deed for the day. Good job." Alfred smiled and gave the man a thumbs up. As he did, his stomach growled loudly and he quickly dropped his gaze and brought his hand back against his side, biting his lip in embarrassment.

"You're hungry." Alfred looked back up to find the man's sad eyes trained on him. Alfred laughed and pushed his wet hair back from his forehead.

"Well, yeah," he snickered. "Kinda happens when ya can't buy food. Aren't Americans supposed to be the stupid ones?" The man didn't return Alfred's smile. He only watched him, a frown hidden by the scarf.

"How about I buy you a meal?" he offered, reaching a hand out to Alfred. Alfred scoffed and knocked his hand away.

"If you really wanna help, ya can just get a sandwich from the market down the street. Or ya could give me the money and hope I don't use it on booze." Alfred smirked but the man just reached out again.

"You really think a wanker like you is in any position to be making demands?" he sneered, amusement playing in his eyes. Alfred began to reply but was cut off by another growl. The man shifted his weight to one hip. "You want your bloody food or not?"

Alfred stared silently at his hand for another moment before reaching up to meet it, allowing the man to pull him upright. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything to lose. The blonde offered his umbrella but Alfred waved him off.

"Doesn't matter. I'm already soaked." The man looked Alfred up and down before turning with a curt "follow me."

* * *

_Hello Everyone (whoever is actually ready this :D)_

_This is my first fan fic and I don't really know what I'm doing \(^_^)/ I realize this chapter is a bit short, but the next one should be fairly long and introduce the characters a bit more :) I hope you all enjoy this story and stick with it till the end. Thank you!_


	2. Chapter 2

The blonde led Alfred through a sea on umbrellas, down busy streets overflowing with crowds and cars that left him scrambling to keep himself from slipping on the sidewalk or running into a very angry driver. He'd lived in this city nearly a month now, but only moved through alleys or sewers or subway tunnels—never on the street and especially not on ones so busy. Grimacing as yet another man nearly sent him sprawling, he jogged to catch up with the bobbing blonde, who was now stopped in front of an apartment building, waiting for Alfred. The man punched in the code and held the door open for Alfred. He looked around at the high ceilings and rather plain walls, the doorman giving him a dirty look as the floor became a sea around him. Alfred only smiled and waved. It wasn't until he was in the elevator that he realized just where he was. He bit his lip to keep the smile off his face.

"Thought you said a meal, not a night," he teased, glancing at the blonde. The man reddened and cleared his throat.

"Don't get your hopes up, you bloody yank. You'll need something dry for anyone to take us. You're lucky the doorman didn't run you out with a broom."

"Looked like he was thinkin' about it." The man chuckled as the doors opened, leading Alfred down a long corridor with a myriad of uniform doors, the only differentiating factor being the number in the middle of each. Various sounds emerged form the doors: one blasted some incoherent rock music; another filtered sounds of an argument in another language along with the sound of smashing pots and glass; music in a language Alfred didn't recognize flowed from one towards the middle; not too far off was a lovely piano; smoke emerged from underneath a door whose label was too blurred for Alfred to see clearly. Alfred looked worriedly at the blonde who didn't so much as wince at the sight.

The man finally stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall across from a door releasing a few rather embarrassing sounds. Alfred stepped inside, bothered enough by his blurry eyes to finally pull his glasses out. His wiped the lenses with his dirty fingers, only creating muddy streaks across them. Sighing in frustration, he moved to put them back in his pocket when the blonde plucked them from his grasp, cleaning them with the end of his scarf.

"This is explains a lot," he said through a smile. "You kept talking to my forehead. Thought you were bloody blind."

"Might as well be," Alfred mumbled, taking the glasses as he handed them back. He dropped them in their rightful place and looked at his savior for the first time. Damp blonde hair fell into a rather delicate face, handsome but not in a striking sort of way, his nose and cheeks painted red from the cold. His green eyes were soft and playful but with the capability of sternness. He brought his scarf away from his face, revealing soft lips pulled up in a smirk that tugged strangely at Alfred's heart. As he gazed at this beautiful man he could only think of one thing to say:

"You got some big eyebrows dude."

The blonde huffed and rolled his eyes. "Thanks. I'm aware." He stuck one hand out and placed the other on his hip. "I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name's Arthur Kirkland." Alfred met his hand and shook it. He stared at the man for a moment before realizing he was waiting for a reply.

"Oh, uh, Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Well, Mr. Jones—"

"Alfred's fine."

"Alfred, then," Arthur smiled, releasing Alfred's hand. "I'll get you something dry to wear." He frowned over Alfred's head. "Trousers may be an issue. You're, uh, quite a bit taller than me." Arthur laughed shyly and stood straight, trying to appear taller. "In the meantime, help yourself to anything in the fridge. Just… try not to track water everywhere." Alfred looked down at himself, already creating a sizable puddle on the floor. The thought came to him that he could piss himself right now and Arthur would be none the wiser. He quickly pushed the thought away and nodded to Arthur. No need to soil himself _and _ruin this nice man's floor.

As Arthur left the room, Alfred took a good look around the room. The décor was quite nice: a beige couch with two chairs on either side pushed to the right of the room against wall length windows, a coffee table between placed between the couch and the TV. Dark hard wood floors stretched away from him and into each corner of the room. To the left was a study with a two full-length shelves holding more books than they were ever meant to. A dark wood desk held a lamp and a closed laptop, papers scattered around the desk and falling to the floor, a topple wastebasket adding to the mess with crumpled scraps. Compared to the right side of the room, which was quite organized, the left was disastrous.

Alfred looked to the kitchen, settled in the right corner of the room in what may have been a remodeled bedroom, the wall that once separated the rooms long since destroyed and smoothed over. Another growl erupted from him as he saw the fridge, a gleaming beacon of silver. He took an experimental step forward, the step sending water running down his leg and pooling on the floor. He scowled at the water as his stomach growled again. Oh, it was so _close_…

Alfred sighed in frustration and began removing his clothes, peeling away the layers glued to his skin. He left the sopping mess at the entryway and hurried to the fridge, stark naked. Throwing it open, he grabbed the first thing he saw: half a ham sandwich. As he took his first bite he moaned, practically melting at the taste. He'd almost forgotten the taste of meat, the juicy deliciousness that enveloped his mouth overwhelming him. He practically inhaled the rest of the sandwich, licking his fingers and reaching for the milk. Pressing the carton to his lips, he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"These might be a little small but I think they'll…Alfred?" Arthur emerged carrying a pair of pants and a large white T-shirt and cautiously walked towards the clothes, crouching down and poking them. "Did you melt?"

Alfred wiped his mouth and laughed, making Arthur jump. "Over here," he grinned waving his arm. Arthur turned, his relieved smile quickly turning to shock as he saw Alfred. Falling back into the wet mess of clothes, Arthur stuttered as he tried to find an appropriate sentence. Eventually, he just said, "You're naked."

"Yeah!" Alfred smiled and turned back to the fridge. "You got some good stuff in here. Hey, what's—"

"You're naked," Arthur repeated, a blush slowly burning his cheeks.

Alfred looked back at Arthur and nodded. "Yes. We've established that. Seriously though what's—"

"THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Arthur screamed burying his face in his hands.

Alfred furrowed his brow. "Oh, sorry you said help yourself so I just—"

"NOT THE FOOD YOU BLOODY IDIOT YOUR CLOTHES," Arthur gestured frantically to the pile around him.

"Well, you said not to track water everywhere so—"

"YOU COULDN'T HAVE AT LEAST LEFT YOUR UNDERGARMETS ON?!"

Alfred shrugged, straightening and closing the fridge door. "They were wet too. What's wrong?" Alfred smirked, laughing as Arthur blindly stood, his hand over his eyes. "We're both guys; its not like it matters."

"IT DOES BLOODY—" Arthur pursed his lips and sighed holding out the clothes for Alfred. "Just…Just put these on. Here." He stumbled forward, waving the clothes around.

"Thanks!" Alfred took the clothes and frowned. "Uh…they got wet…"

"What?" Arthur opened his eyes and glared at the clothes, immediately turning away. "Bloody hell. I'll get you new—"

"Arthur, is everything okay? I 'eard screaming." A new voice came from the other side of the front door, accented and male but different from Arthur's. It sounded French.

Arthur spun towards the door and cursed. "Yes, yes, fine I don't need your help frog!" The knob clicked and Arthur tried the throw himself against the door, only getting smacked in the face as it opened faster than expected. The man behind it poked his head around and laughed as Arthur pressed his hands against his already red face.

"Sorry, _mon ami, _I did not see you!" The man was tall and well built with long blonde hair loosely pulled into a ponytail and hungry blue eyes and that set Alfred's teeth on edge. A bit of stumbled grew on his chin to frame a rather attractive face, the kind that could hold the attention of most women. He was well built but not overly so and despite his strong appearance he helped Arthur up delicately.

"I said I don't need you help!" Arthur scowled, pulling his arm away from the man.

"Oh, of course you do, why else would—what the 'ell is this?" The man lifted his foot away from Alfred's sopping clothes, looking to Arthur questionably. Before he could answer, he caught sight of Alfred, his eyes widening a bit. "Oh ho ho, I see now." The man winked and elbowed Arthur, who only blushed deeper. "You work fast _mon ami. _I've taught you well." The man patted Arthur on the head, Arthur swatting at him in indignation.

"It's not like that! His clothes are wet and I told him not to get water in the house and…"

Alfred quickly lost interest in the conversation and returned to the fridge, rummaging through the leftovers until he found an open pack of ham. He grinned and torn into the package, once again catching bits of conversation.

"…complicated. Can you please just leave?"

"But why? I can join you. Show you what a real—"

"NO. Please. No," Arthur scowled, grabbing the man's arm as he reached to remove the towel around his waist. "Look, I just need to clothe him."

"But why? The view is so nice."

Arthur thumped the man on the arm. "Don't stare!" he barely managed to whisper. "Do you have any pants I could borrow? I think mine are too short."

"Well what's the point if they're only going to come off lat—"

"Dammit Francis!" Arthur smacked him again scowling through his blush. "I'm serious!"

"Alright _mon petit bébé _just for you," the man winked again and walked out, Arthur sighing into his hand.

"He seems like fun," Alfred mumbled absently, a looked of horror spreading across Arthur's face.

"Oh, please don't say that. That _thing_ is anything but fun," Arthur held his stomach and looked like he was going to be sick. He breathed deeply before straitening, still avoiding Alfred's eyes as he grabbed a blanket off the couch and held it out. "Please…cover yourself," he mumbled.

Alfred pursed his lips to contain a laugh as he walked to Arthur and took the blanket. "Why do you have such a problem with this?" he asked as he wrapped it around himself.

Arthur rubbed his temples, leaning against the couch with his eyes still closed as he answered. "Too many days at Francis' house."

"You've known each other a while then?"

Arthur sighed and looked up at Alfred, shrugging. "We grew up together. He's rather…well…_eccentric _I suppose for lack of a better word. You'll have to excuse him, he's completely void of any sense embarrassment and can be a bit…touchy," Arthur laughed and smiled awkwardly. "Just don't let him touch you and it should be fine."

Alfred was about to ask more but bit his lip instead, not wanting to pry too much. After all, he was only some homeless man in a kind stranger's house. What was his place to ask about the man's private life? He was suddenly very aware of his nakedness and felt a blush rise, looking away from Arthur. Gah, how could he be such an idiot! A complete stranger running around naked in his house it was no wonder he'd embarrassed Arthur. An honest man just trying to do a bit of charity work and he ends up with some "loon" like Alfred, stripping down and raiding his fridge. Alfred laughed softly and scratched the back of his head, looking apologetically at Arthur.

"Sorry, guess I've been kind of an idiot," he mumbled, smiling before looking to his feet. "Sometimes I uh…don't really think things through. Sorry bout this. I'll, uh…go." Alfred turned to leave but Arthur stopped him, grabbing his arm.

"What are you talking about," he mumbled, tilting his head as a look of confusion swept across his features. "I said I'd get you something to eat."

Alfred tried to shake Arthur off, but his grip was awfully strong for such a little thing. "I had some ham so…"

Arthur scowled. "That's hardly enough to sustain a toddler. You need something proper to eat."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Alright mom." Arthur just released his arm, moving to pick up Alfred's clothes. "I'll leave these out to dry." He vanished down the hall and reappeared with a long-sleeved shirt in hand, this one black with a shield, two swords crossing behind it. "Here. It might be a little tight, but it's something."

Alfred frowned at Arthur for a moment before taking the shirt. Why was he still trying to help him? He said he'd leave. Most people would let him. Most people wouldn't have brought him here in the first place. Most people would of kept walking when they saw Alfred in the rain, assume he's dead or crazy or another pathetic fool who'd blown his money on useless possessions and idiotic deals. Then again, the last one wasn't far off…

The shirt was a bit snug, but it fit well enough. Lifting his arms exposed his stomach, but he wasn't about to complain about a gift. Instead he smiled warmly at Arthur, a small nod in thanks. Arthur simply blushed and looked away. A heavy sigh came from behind them.

"Does 'e really need a top? I thought 'e was quite nice without one. Can't say I'm a big fan of the skirt either," Francis snickered by the door.

Arthur marched over and snatched the pants from his grasp. "Like you're one to talk, frog," Arthur grumbled, gesturing to the towel still wrapped around his waist.

"Oh, I don't need this if—" Arthur spun him around and shoved him out the door as the Frenchman reached for his towel again, a laugh resounding from the other side as Arthur slammed it shut. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and looked back at Alfred, an embarrassed smile playing at his lips. "Now, then, how bout that meal?"

Alfred practically inhaled his food, finishing before Arthur had even taken his second bite. He scowled at his empty plate, wishing they served larger portions. Arthur's laugh made him look up quizzically.

"Here, you want some of mine?" Arthur asked, handing his plate to Alfred. Alfred shook his head, his eyes wide.

"What about you? Aren't you hungry?" he asked, tilting his head. Arthur only grinned.

"I had a big lunch. Besides, I'm don't think I'm nearly as hungry as you. Go on then, eat up," he waved Alfred away as he torn into the food placed before him. Arthur only watched him with a gentle smile.

Once he'd finished Arthur called the waiter, who seemed rather impressed at how fast they'd finished their meals. Alfred stretched and leaned back in his chair, his head dropping and he saw the restaurant upside down. He tried to ignore the ache of sadness that pulled at his chest as he realized he'd have to leave. He was nice, this strange little brit, but Alfred felt bad, having burdened him. But, charity was charity and his belly was full and that made him happy. Besides the man had a life to get back to, maybe help another idiot he finds out in the rain, clothe him, feed him, keep another heart beating. Still…

"Alfred." Alfred sat up and looked back at Arthur, the world once again right side up. Arthur was slowly drumming his hands on the table with one hand, the other cradling his chin as he examined Alfred with eyes battling between tender and antagonistic. Alfred leaned across the table and extended his hand.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks for the meal."

Arthur snapped out of his reverie and stared at Alfred's hand. "Oh! Yes. Well. You're very welcome," he mumbled, shaking Alfred's hand before slipping back into his mind, tapping his finger against his cheek. Alfred frowned and cleared his throat.

"I'd, uh… I better get going," he pasted on a smile as he began to get up. "Thank you, this was much appreciated and I'm sure you're a busy guy so…" Alfred pushed in his chair and Arthur met his eyes, standing so quickly he toppled his chair, grabbing Alfred's wrist.

"Wait! I…oh bloody hell," he kicked his chair, now lying on the ground, avoiding the curious gazes of surrounding guests. "You…uh…um…well…since…cuz…uh…" he balled his free fist, pursing his lips as he fought passed the blush on his face. "Why don't you…spend the night with me?" He looked back at Alfred's, an embarrassed smile on his lips. "I…I mean not like that! You know not…_with _me per se just…" Arthur released Alfred's wrist and pressed his palms against his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking up at Alfred again. "Everyone needs a warm place to stay every now and then and my old roommate moved out recently so I've got an extra bed. Besides your clothes are still at my place and I did take Francis' trousers…" He brushed his bangs out of his eyes and brought half his mouth up in a smile. "What do you say?"

Alfred kept his face carefully blank as his mind reeled with disbelief. Sure there was nice, there was courtesy, there was charity, but _this _was something else entirely. Alfred had had men offer him food from the drug store and throw a quarter or two his way, but he'd never had one offer his house for the night. Never even heard of such a thing. On top of that he'd given him clothes, and not only fed him but taken him to a restaurant…. Was he trying to make up for something? Some horrible deed that haunts his conscious? Or did he genuinely want to help Alfred?

His thoughts still spinning, Alfred realized he'd been staring silently for about five minutes, a look of worry etched across Arthur's face as he watched Alfred. Blinking back his shock, he nodded numbly. "Uh, sure, if I won't bug you…"

Arthur's face lit up as he smiled, nodding shyly and he turned away to pick his chair back up, ducking his head in a futile attempt to hide a blush. Alfred bit his lip to keep from laughing as he followed Arthur out the door. Arthur had brought an umbrella, but the rain had lightened up quite a bit; it was hardly sprinkling when they left the apartment. Now, the rain had stopped completely, the slick ground beginning to dry, the gray fog lifting, allowing the signs and upper stories of buildings to be seen. It had grown quite dark since they'd first entered the restaurant, the filtered light from the sun nearly devoured by the black of night, only a sliver of sunshine still reaching through the clouds to the west. But still, it was nice.

In fact, he could see a patch of blue through a break in the clouds.

* * *

_WHEW! Speed writing! This was actually all originally going to be Chapter 1, but halfway through writing it I figured it was too long for a first chapter and cut it in two. I originally intended to post the first two chapters on the same day, but only got about half of this chapter done yesterday :(. The next chapter will (hopefully!) be up within the next few days and, unless I write a ton and split that chapters like these two, I won't be posting from day to day. I promise to work on this series as often as I can though! Thank you for your support :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_All around him, his house was burning. A brush of flame was enough to make Alfred grit his teeth in pain. He ran, his blistered feet struggling to carry him down the endless halls. How could he get lost in his own house? In his panic, he ran into several doors and empty rooms, only met with another wall of flames, hissing and spitting into his anxious face. Finally, shivering with fear and exhaustion, he reached the stairs, half falling-half running as he dodged the flames that clawed at his clothes, one managing to take a bite out of his sleeve. Running across the burning carpet, he threw himself against the door, finding it blocked. Outside, men howled and cheered, throwing flaming bottles onto the roof and through broken windows. The deafening roar of manic laughter, hungry flames, and the beat of his own frantic heart filled his ears, drowning out his own frustrated scream. He slid down the door, coughing and hacking as his lungs searched for clean air. Smoke filled his nose, the scent making him gag uncontrollably. The flames burned his eyes, slowly advancing as he sat helpless on the ground, the effort it took to breath taking the energy needed to move his legs. His thoughts whirled as he searched for some sort of escape, some path still clear enough to walk. But as the flames grew and the screams increased and his eyes stung and his throat burned and he breath stuttered and the smoke—_

Alfred woke with a start, sweat plastering his shirt to his chest. He pressed his palms against his eyes and rubbed them, pursing his lips. A dream. Just a dream.

He breathed deeply, immediately choking on the rancid air. Looking up, he found an unfamiliar ceiling clouded with smoke. His eyes widened. Nope. Not a dream. Grabbing his glasses and jumping out of bed he ran for the door, only to run into the wall. Where'd the door go? Rubbing his nose, he groped the wall until he found the doorknob. The hell had happened to his house? He threw the door open to a single hallway, vaguely familiar but very different from the any he was used to.

Pulling his shirt over his nose, he searched for the source, a guiding hand against the wall. At the end of the hall was a living room and study, again vaguely familiar but much different from any of his rooms. A bright flicker caught his eye and he turned to see Arthur batting at a flaming pan. His head throbbed. Right. This wasn't his home. He didn't have one. Arthur had taken him in, kindly offering dinner to the starving homeless man. Dinner turned to a night out of the rain, a night turned to a week, and a week turned to two. For a moment, Alfred wondered if he was still dreaming.

However, his trance was broken by Arthur's frantic call of, "Help me you bloody twit!"

Alfred ran for the fire extinguisher in the corner of the room and pulled the pin, effectively coating the kitchen in foam. With the fire no longer a danger, Alfred stumbled over to open the kitchen windows. They just barely opened, but let out enough smoke that it was easier to breath. A hack caused Alfred to turn to Arthur, doubled over and covered in foam. Whoops.

Alfred guided him to the couch, setting him down before glaring down at Arthur, who was now picking at the foam between coughs.

"The hell was that?" Alfred scoffed, rubbing one of his burning eyes. "Tryin' to burn the place down?"

Arthur shook his head, returning the scowl as he brushed foam from his arms. "Very funny you twit. Nice aim, by the way," he smiled spitefully, shaking foam to the floor.

"I panicked!" he threw his arms up, trying not to laugh. He just couldn't take the man seriously covered in foam. "I didn't see _you _doin' anything about it!"

"I was trying to keep the rest of the place from burning down!" he shrieked, putting his hands on his hips.

"What were you doing setting fires in the first place?!"

Arthur pouted and looked away, folding his arms. "I… I was trying to cook."

"_THAT'S_ what happens when you cook!?" Alfred laughed, an amused grin pulling at his lips. "The hell were you thinkin'?"

"I thought it'd be fine! I mean last time the kitchen was only a bit burned…"

"A _bit? _Why were you cookin' in the first place?"

Arthur blushed and turned away from Alfred. "Because…" he mumbled, kicking at the foam.

"Because…?" Alfred prompted, a bit gentler than before. When Arthur didn't turn, Alfred sighed and shook a hand through his shaggy hair, moving to sit on the coffee table across from Arthur.

"What happened to you?" Arthur asked, pointing to Alfred's chest. "Nightmare?"

"Uh, yeah…nightmare," Alfred mumbled lamely, tugging at his damp shirt.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked gently, frowning as he placed a hand against Alfred's cheek.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Alfred laughed, giving Arthur a brave smile. "I'm not afraid of anything." Arthur only continued to frown.

Arthur dropped his hand as a knock came from the door. "I'll get it," he waved Arthur away as he stood to get the door. "You go take a shower." Arthur hesitated for a moment before nodding and turning to the hallway. Alfred turned and opened the door to a naked brunette.

"_Buon giorno! _I just ran out of pasta and was wondering—"

Alfred closed the door. Arthur turned back and looked at him quizzically.

Alfred pursed his lips. "Okay…maybe there's one thing I'm afraid of."

Arthur grinned half amused-half confused. "Who was at the door?"

"Some nude foreigner," he shrugged.

Arthur sighed and pushed Alfred out of the way of the door, looking wearily at the naked man. "Feliciano, where are you trousers?"

The brunette smiled brightly. "Lovi took them! He said if I'm not gonna wear them in the house, I can't wear them anywhere so he locked them in his room and the shelf is too tall for me so I just left—"

Arthur held up a hand to stop the babbling man. "Would you like to borrow a pair?"

The man—Feliciano—quickly shook his head. "No I like it like this. It's so free!" He threw his arms up and spun in a circle. "Naked _siestas _are the best anyway!"

Arthur laughed, seemingly much more comfortable with Feliciano's nakedness than he'd been with Alfred's. "You'll have to go out in public eventually."

"Oh I did! And I'm not allowed in the bakery anymore," he laughed, Arthur's face changing from amusement to shock. "That's okay though, Lovi can get my sweets for me." His expression quickly changed as he took notice of Arthur's foam soaked appearance, cocking his head in confusion. "What happened to you?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at the disastrous kitchen. "Did you try to cook again?"

Arthur scowled and stepped aside. "Just get your bloody pasta."

The brunette grinned and ran to the kitchen, throwing open a cupboard and digging through the food until he'd found what he wanted, nearly running into Alfred on his way back to the door.

"Oh! You're Arthur's new roommate, right?" he smiled brightly and stuck out a hand. "_Piacere di conoscerla. _I'm Feliciano."

Alfred smiled back and shook his hand. "Nice ta meetcha." Feliciano laughed and yanked on Alfred's hand, bringing him down to talk in his ear.

"Don't let Arthur make you pasta; he burns the water." He released Alfred with another grin and trotted out the door.

"What'd he say?" Arthur asked, turning to Alfred as the door closed.

"Ah, nothin' much," he smirked as Arthur raised an eyebrow, beginning down the hall again.

"Hey," Alfred called, leaning against the arm of the couch. "How come it's all fine and dandy when Spanish boy runs around naked but when I do it you flip out?"

Arthur spun around, floundering for a response as a blush coated his face. Finally he folded his arms and scowled. "Well, first off he's Italian, not Spanish—"

"All the same," Alfred sighed waving his hand.

"Well, no—"

"Quit stallin'."

"I'm just saying Spanish and Italian and very—"

"Arthur," Alfred looked pointedly at Arthur, making him squirm a bit and look away.

"Well…" he mumbled, "it's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

"Why?"

"None of you're bloody business that's why!"

"Arthur."

"What!?"

"Are you thinkin' about dirty things?"

His gaze snapped back to Alfred, taking a step back and furrowing his brows. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well…" Alfred pointed and dropped his gaze to Arthur's belt. Arthur's face burned, quickly covering himself with his hands.

"You twit, don't stare!" he glowered, backing against the wall. Alfred only laughed.

"What's wrong? Italy-boy turn you on?" Alfred bit his tongue, snickering at Arthur's discomfort. Arthur looked back at Alfred in confusion.

"What? No, of course not, why would—"

"It's cool man," Alfred chuckled, smiling and holding up his hands. "I don't mind if you're into guys. It's natural and all that shit. 'Sides, he _was _pretty cute."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, still thoroughly confused. "_What_ are you babbling about?"

"The fellatio kid!"

Arthur's blush deepened again. "EXCUSE ME?"

"The naked one!"

"_Feliciano _you bloody twit!"

"Oh. Well, he kinda mumbled..."

"How could possibly you mix those up?!"

"I don't know. What's fellatio?"

Arthur's blushed spread to his neck and burned his ears. "Please, can we just drop this whole thing?"

"Aww, c'mon man, don't deny it. You like him. It's written all over your face. Well, not _just_ your face," Alfred winked and Arthur looked away and bit his lip, his expression caught between fury, embarrassment, and something Alfred couldn't quite place. Alfred stood and stretched. "I can help ya out with that if you want," he snickered. Arthur turned away and half ran down the hall.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much!" he called as he dodged into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Alfred laughed after Arthur, his expression quickly changing to distaste as he looked at the mess of a kitchen. He scowled but began cleaning, hoping Arthur would take it as some sort of apology for teasing him. He emerged just as Alfred was finishing, having showered with a towel around his waist and neck, damp hair brushed away from his eyes. Alfred leaned against the counter and rested his chin in his hand, grinning at Arthur.

"Better?" Alfred purred. Arthur kept his back to Alfred, pulling cereal from the cupboard.

"Thanks for cleaning," he mumbled, bringing down a bowl.

Alfred laughed a bit and hopped up on the counter, swinging his legs. "Hey I was wondering…" Arthur stared daggers at Alfred, daring him to finish that sentence. Alfred smiled innocently. "Just wondering, I swear. Whose Lovi?"

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, turning around to lean against the counter. "Lovino. He's Feliciano's brother. They live together several doors down."

"Hmm, so he's close."

"Alfred," Arthur snapped warningly. Alfred only smiled. He watched Arthur get the milk before he spoke again, looking up at the ceiling lights.

"I didn't know you could burn water."

"THAT'S IT, OUT OF MY KITCHEN!" Arthur spat, grabbing a broom and swatting at Alfred.

"Ow!—Hey—I'm sorry!" Alfred laughed falling off the counter and scrambling out of Arthur's reach. Arthur raised the broom warningly in Alfred's face.

"You will NOT make fun of my cooking. You will EAT it and be happy, whenever I make it. Understand?" he pouted, eyeing Alfred dangerously.

Alfred smirked and cocked his head. "I don't think it's healthy to eat charcoal."

Arthur's face burned indignantly, hitting Alfred with the broom again. "OUT! OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Arthur chased Alfred through the living room and out the door, nearly knocking Francis over as they ran into him.

"_Allô_?" he asked in confusion, looking between the two. Arthur shoved Alfred towards Francis.

"_You _look after him. I have errands to run." With that he stepped back in his apartment and slammed the door. The two left in the hall looked at the door in silence for a moment before Francis snickered, opening the door to his own apartment.

"Ah, did you mock 'is food?" Francis laughed and putted an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "_Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon ami, _'e just needs to, how you say, blow off a bitter seaman."

"Uh, I think the expression's 'blow off a _bit of steam'."_

_"Vraiment? _Hmm…well, I like mine better. Probably better for the nerves too." Alfred looked sidelong at Francis as he held the door open for him. "Well? Come in, you can't stand in the corridor for the next couple 'ours."

Francis' apartment had a similar layout to Arthur's; it was nice, ignoring the various naked portraits on the wall that made Alfred feel a bit strange. Francis pulled a bottle of wine from one of the cupboards and poured two glasses before handing one to Alfred. Alfred brought it up and peered through the glass.

"Never been a big fan of wine," he mumbled. Francis scowled.

"You are displeased with your 'ost's gift?" he scoffed. Alfred shook his head, a bit embarrassed and took a sip. It was pretty good, for wine.

"What else did you say to 'im?" Alfred looked up to meet the Frenchman's suspicious gaze. "It '_as _to be more than cooking."

"Well I said he liked fella—Feliciano and he started spazzin'." Francis threw his head back and laughed.

"_Petit Feli? _Why would you think that?"

"Well he came over naked and when I bugged Arthur about it he got hard," he shrugged as he sipped his wine again.

Francis furrowed his brow. "For _Feli? Tu es sûr?"_

"What?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I said 'hey how come it's cool when he runs around naked but I'm not allowed to'."

Francis smirked into his wine glass. "_Ah…_ so that's it."

Alfred nodded, swirling his wine around in its glass. "It was _super_ obvious. I don't know why he even tried to hide it." Francis seemed to be struggling to hold back a laugh.

"_Bien sûr, _quite obvious. I'm surprised _'e _hasn't noticed it 'imself," he scoffed, biting his lip as he tried to keep a straight face.

"I know, right? Well, he didn't get all blushy until after Feliciano left, but still he was all nice to him and stuff. Y'know?" Alfred asked, gesturing with his glass.

"Ah, _oui, _quite strange."

"Yeah, I told him it's cool to be gay and all, I don't have a problem with it. I think he just doesn't want people to think he's weird. I never woulda guessed him for a closet one though."

"Ah, trust me _mon ami, _'e left the closet long ago," Francis snickered. When Alfred looked confused, Francis sighed and placed his wine on the counter, wagging his finger at Alfred. "I think 'e's in love," he explained. Alfred's face lit up.

"That must be it! How cute!" Alfred laughed, spilling his wine as he threw his arms around. Francis didn't seem to notice; instead he laughed with him, nodding in agreement.

"_Oui, très mignon. _But Arthur is very stubborn. 'e'll never tell 'im on 'is own. So you, _mon ami, _will need to coax it out of 'im."

Alfred cocked his head in confusion. "Me? Why me?"

Francis leaned closer to Alfred, saying, "Well, between you and me, I think Feliciano would be the top."

Alfred eyes widened, not really sure what that had to do anything. "Really?" Francis nodded, struggling to keep a straight face.

"And I think Arthur is too embarrassed to tell Felibecause 'e's afraid of being the bottom. So,'e's going to need practice and you're 'is roommate, _oui? _Who better to practice on?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Alfred nodded in understanding and Francis bit hard on his lip as laughter bubbled in his chest. "What do I gotta do then? To get him used to it and stuff?"

Francis couldn't contain himself; he laughed and clapped Alfred on the shoulder. "Ah, I have much to teach you, _mon cher._ But first, 'ow about another glass of wine…"

"An' lemme tell you 'bout dis complete SHITHEAD. So I was walkin' down da road right? An'—" Alfred hiccupped and immediately lost his train of thought, staring at the ceiling for a minute before shaking his head and looking back and Francis and his two friends, Antonio and Gilbert, who lived further down the hall. One was Spanish and the other German, but in the haze Alfred's mind was in, he couldn't remember which was which. They all listened intently to Alfred, amusement painted on their faces. "Ah, fuck, I don' 'member." He went to take another drink of wine, only to find it empty. Francis quickly refilled it.

"Why don't you tell us about the delivery boy?" Francis offered, pursing his lips as his smile grew.

"Oh, this little fuck. So I was jus' chillin' at home like whatever, right? And then some kid knocks on my door like 'Hey I have books' an' I'm like 'I don' wan' no fuckin' books' an' he's all 'They're fo' you' an' he kept tryin' to give 'em to me but I was like 'Noooooooooo take 'em back' an' he wouldn't so I decked 'im." The three howled as Alfred took another drink of wine. "An' THEN he was all 'I'm callin' the cops' an' I was like 'No. Stop it.' So I took 'im an' threw him in da pool." Gilbert laughed and fell out of his chair, gripping his sides as though they might tear in two.

"Vhere'd you find zis fucker?" he laughed, jerking a thumb at Alfred. Francis only shook his head, laughing too hard to form a proper sentence.

"I live nex' door," Alfred clarified, draining his glass.

"You're livin' with Zwingli?" Antonio laughed, surprise running across his features. "The trigger happy Swiss _cabrón?" _

Alfred shook his head. "No, the other next door."

"Ze hall ends, _dummkopf" _Gilbert snickered, trying to contain himself. "You livin' vith ze _pigeons?"_

"Well, I tried ta but Arthur got mad an' made me put 'em back outside," another hiccup and another howl of laughter. The sound of a door slamming echoed from behind them and Alfred turned to see two Arthurs in the entrance, moving in unison.

"Francis, just _what _the hell have you done?" they asked, pinching the bridges of their noses. They seemed to waver between one person and two and Alfred squinted trying to find the real one.

"_Quoi? _We were only having a bit of fun, _mon cher," _Francis smiled and sat forward, offering Arthur his glass. "Care to join?"

"I'll pass," he scowled tugging at Alfred's arm. "Come now, time to go home."

"Ah, c'mon _hombre,_ don't take our entertainment," Antonio scowled.

"Sorry '_mi amigo', _but I'm going to have to cut this show short." Boos and jeers followed them as Arthur dragged Alfred out the door. Once they were back in their own apartment Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning to face Alfred. "Sorry, I was out longer than I thought. I won't leave you with Francis that long again. I suppose I should get you a key so you can…Alfred are you listening?"

Alfred had been staring blankly at Arthur, his words just a dull buzz running by his ears. "I didn' know' you spoke Spanish," he slurred, stumbling a bit as he tried to keep his balance. Arthur sighed.

"Right. Sure. Well, do as you please; I'm off to bed. If you're going to stay up try not to make much noise," Arthur turned down the hall when though his haze Alfred remembered what Francis had told him earlier. Alfred stumbled up behind Arthur, wrapping his arm around his waist and bringing him close against his chest, making Arthur jump.

"W-what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he gawked, looking back at Alfred.

Alfred hummed and pressed his lips against Arthur's blushing neck. "What? You said '_Do as you please'. _Mind if I come with you?" he purred through his slur. Arthur's mouth flopped open and closed, a strange strangled noise escaping as he searched for a response. Alfred smiled drowsily and kissed his cheek, nothing but a peck but more than enough to give Arthur a jolt.

"Why…wha…has Francis put you up to this?" he asked breathlessly. Alfred only grinned, running his nose along Arthur's neck. "He did, didn't he? What's he told you? If he—ah!" Arthur squirmed as Alfred trailed a hand up his shirt, teasing the soft skin underneath. Alfred chuckled.

"You're so soft, Arthur," he mumbled, "like a little kitty-cat. Hehe, meow, meow."

"You're drunk," Arthur stuttered, squirming but hardly making an effort to get away. "Release me. I'm exhausted and I'd like to go to bed."

"Then let's share. It's cold tonight. Will you keep me warm?" Alfred lulled, nipping at Arthur's ear. Arthur bit his lip in a failed attempt at suppressing a moan.

"You sound like a Valentine Card."

"Then will you be my Valentine?"

"Well, no, considering it's the middle of November…"

"I'm making a reservation. Will you let me?"

Arthur only turned his face away. "Let me go, you wanker…"

"Are you saving it for someone else?"

Arthur looked back to scowled at Alfred. "Why the bloody hell would I—"

Alfred cut him of with a kiss, gentle and sloppy with his drunken tongue playing at Arthur's lips. Arthur went rigid, a shiver running down his spine. Alfred laughed against his lips, tracing circles against Arthur's hip as he slowly began to relax, meeting Alfred's lazy tongue. A light, bubbly feeling began to build inside Alfred's chest as the heat from Arthur's face reflected onto his cheeks. He felt like he was floating and between his spinning head and his pounding heart he couldn't help but giggle. It wasn't until Arthur pulled away that Alfred realized he hadn't been breathing, suddenly gasping for air.

"Alright. You've had your fun," Arthur blushed, wiping his hand against his mouth.

"Wait! You have to practice!" Alfred mumbled, reaching out for Arthur again. Arthur held him back with a hand against his chest.

"Practice? Practice kissing?" Arthur asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"No," Alfred shook his head, holding the hand against his chest. "Cuz Francis said your shy about Feliciano on top."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What are you babbling about? This is about Feliciano again?"

Alfred widened his eyes. "How'd you know? Who told you?"

Arthur sighed and shook his head, dropping his hand. "Alfred, I don't like Feli. Not in that way. I like someone else."

Alfred gasped and pressed his palms against his face. "Really?! Who?!"

Arthur laughed. "Why don't you take a guess?"

"Is it Francis?"

"Ew. No. Been there, done that."

"What?"

"Nothing, guess again."

"Lovino."

"No."

"The Spanish one."

"No."

"The German one."

"No."

"Is it someone I know?"

"Yes."

"Is it someone on this floor?"

"Yes."

Alfred furrowed his brow, biting his lip and scowling at the ground in thought. "Who else lives on this floor…"

Arthur grinned and turned down the hall again. "Let me know if you think of someone."

" 'Kay," he mumbled, still staring at the ground. After several minutes of thought, Alfred forgot what he was initially thinking about and sat on the couch, turning on the TV. It wasn't long before he passed out.

Light pierced through the window, burning Alfred's eyes. He grunted and rolled over, covering his face with his arms. The movement made his head throb and his stomach churn, biting his lip to keep from vomiting over the side of the couch. After several minutes of turmoil, he managed to push himself up, gazing around the apartment with misty eyes. The last thing he remembered was Francis offering a drink. Everything past that was a strange sort of blur. He couldn't even remember how he got home. Was Arthur still mad? He'd have to ask. He vaguely remembered talking to Arthur, but it may as well as been a dream, nothing but a hazy recollection.

His burning throat finally forced him to his feet, stumbling towards the kitchen. On the counter sat a glass of water and a note. Alfred quickly drained the glass, half laying across the counter as he brought the note close to his face.

_Good Morning Alfred, or is it afternoon by now? Not that it matters. Have you figured out who yet? I thought about waking you to ask, but I doubted you'd be much for talk. If you still can't get it through your thick bloody skull, I'll give you a hint when I get home. Anyhow, I'm off to work, and I realize you may not be in much of a mood but I need you to grab a couple things I missed from the store; I won't have time on my way back. The list is on the back of this note. Thanks, dear._

_-Arthur_

Alfred rubbed his thumb and index finger against his tired eyes. Guessed who? What was that supposed to mean? He'd talked to Arthur…but wasn't that a dream? He couldn't even remember what they'd talked about. Alfred examined the note again. The first two letters on the word_ dear _were rather shaky, as though he'd hesitated on writing it but decided on keeping it.

Alfred dropped the note and straightened, stretching as his nose was met with a horrible odor. He brought his shirt up and gagged; he didn't get to shower yesterday between Arthur kicking him out and his mysterious voyage to the couch.

About an hour and several Tylenol later, Alfred was out on the city street, dodging between buzzing crowds and honking cars, studying the list in his hand. His hood was pulled over his head, a futile attempt at blocking out the ear shattering sounds of the world around him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and swore never to drink again. The light of the sun faded and Alfred looked up to see dark clouds on the horizon, enveloping the sun in their cloak. The last few days had been fairly clear, a stubborn cloud or two hanging in the sky but always light and pure. Nowhere near as dark as these monsters. A sudden gust of wind blew his hood back, making Alfred shiver under its icy breath.

He stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, Alfred jumping at the sudden contact.

"_O, moy, _what have we here?" laughed a sickly sweet voice, far too light for the heavy accent, speaking directly into Alfred's ear. "It looks like our little _khitrets _has evaded us again."

Alfred kept his gaze transfixed on the other side of the street, pretending not to notice the man. However, it was hard to ignore the heavy hand on his shoulder. He tried to shake it off. The man laughed, no humor in his voice, only the enjoyment of watching Alfred squirm.

"May I have word with you _kollega?" _His hand tightened around Alfred's shoulder. "I very much miss our little talks together. Perhaps you will go to have a coffee with me?" Alfred was only silent as the Russian spun him around, that ever present sadistic smile plastered across his face.

* * *

khitrets=fox, dodger, slyboots

kollega=colleague, counterpart, associate, friend, brother

At least that's what google translate told me ~(^_^)~

_My apologies if my definition for Russian words is a bit off. I don't know Russian and used what I thought fit best with the options I was given. Please don't hurt me ;_; _

_I just love this little emoticon _~(^_^)~ _It's so cute :D Anyway, from this point on in the story there is going to be rape and yaoi present. Probably should of put that at the beginning of the first chapter, but at that point I was still figuring exactly where I was going to go with the storyline. It's my first fic I'm sorry I'm still learning ;_; I've got everything figured out now though! No worries_ _mon _(_⌐■_■_) _be cool._ _I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter that will include rape as little warning for those who would rather not read (^_^')_


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred's fingers hurt from clutching his coffee cup too long, his head pounding as the noise of the coffee shop filled his ears. Each voice, each slurp of drink, each click of nails against tabletop sent Alfred's ears ringing and set his teeth on edge. He wanted to look around, search for some sort of exit, but he was too afraid to move under the Russian's intense stare. He'd kept his own gaze on the table as the man ordered their drinks and kept it on the mug as it arrived. He was too afraid to look up. To meet those intimidating eyes, such a strange shade of blue they were practically violet. He wanted to shrink away, fall through his seat and sink into the ground, anything to take him away from the man that wanted him dead. He'd nearly succeed too. But here Alfred was, alive and breathing and seemingly well off, thanks to Arthur's care. This meant that Ivan hadn't gotten his way. Which did not make for a happy psycho.

Ivan raised his elbows onto the table, resting his chin across his intertwined fingers and laughing softly. Such a light and delicate thing didn't fit the thoughts that ran through his mind.

"I would like to know how you came to be here," he chimed. "It is not often that someone finds their way past my men. Another trick up your sleeve?" Another giggle that sent Alfred's ear's ringing.

"Just lucky…I guess," he laughed nervously and dared to look up, caught in Ivan's gaze. Too late now. Breaking away would be a sign of weakness, of uselessness. Ivan didn't tend to keep useless people around very long.

"Oh, but I must know," he insisted, turning his head slightly. "Secret tunnel perhaps? Stunt double? Getaway car?"

Alfred stiffly shook his head. "No I just… ran," he shrugged. Ivan's eyes grew dark above that far-too-innocent smile.

"Oh, so simple," he laughed. "It is quite amazing!" Ivan looked away and dropped his smile, releasing Alfred as he lost himself in thought. Alfred let go of the breath he'd been holding, returning his gaze to his drink. He'd hardly touched it and it'd already gone cold but holding it gave him a strange sort of comfort. Ivan turned back to Alfred, the smile taking its place once again.

"We shall not beat around the bushes with small talk. Because you are here, we will need to find a new way to pay back your debt." Ivan placed his hands on the table, making Alfred cringe as he leaned in. "I could always kill you, nice and simple, all your troubles gone at once" he giggled, his sugary tone sending chills down Alfred's spine. "But I have already given you that option and you so rudely rejected. Now, we find another option, unless you have the money?" When Alfred remained silent, Russian chuckled. "I did not think so." Sitting back in hair chair, Ivan stared off into space again, tapping a finger against the table.

Alfred focused on keeping his breathing under control, desperately trying to clear his thoughts, but with his exhausted and fear-struck body it was hard enough just to keep himself from falling over and screaming. As Ivan's silence stretched on, Alfred grew increasingly worried, hands shaking as sweat broke out across his forehead. Alfred glanced up, finding Ivan staring at him and caught once again in those violet eyes. Ivan looked even more unnerving without his smile, all attempt at graciousness abandoned as he bore into Alfred, even his coffee quaking in terror. Oh, wait, his hands were shaking. Duh.

Ivan's grin returned, sitting straight again. "This place is much too crowded for negotiations. Come to my place of business tonight at seven and we will continue this conversation." Without waiting for a response, Ivan stood, throwing a card on the table. He replaced his coat before turning to Alfred again. "Do not be late. You may try to run if you like, but I would not consider that the wisest decision." With another chuckle he turned, waltzing out the door, startling several customers on his way out.

Alfred looked back to his untouched coffee. Idiot! He should've never stayed. He'd spent too long in one place and now he was paying for it. He should've stuck to alleys and sewers and subway tunnels, but he's chosen to walk around the street like an idiot, in _daylight _no less. What was he thinking? Why did he even stay in this city?

Oh, right. Arthur. Arthur, who'd been so kind and caring. Arthur, who'd kept his belly full. Arthur, who'd given him a house. A home. Arthur, who'd taken a homeless man off the street and given him all he had to offer. Damn it. What if he got dragged into this? What if Ivan already knows about Arthur? What if the payment is…?

No.

He wouldn't let that happen. Not again… This was his responsibility and he'd be damned if it hurt anyone again. Unconsciously, he touched the locket he always in his pocket, fiddling with the string. There was no more running. This was his stupid mistake, his greed that caused this. He'd gotten himself into this mess and oh god why was he such an idiot! Alfred folded his arms across the table and buried his face in them, sighing as he focused on blocking out the noisy coffee shop. Slowly, the pounding of his head faded to a dull pulse as he let his eyes drift shut.

~.

_The sound of the doorbell filled Alfred's ear, making his grit his teeth in agitation. He turned over and hope they would go away so he could go back to sleep. Five bells later he sighed and pushed himself up. He'd had such a nice dream too. Trotting down the stairs, a sixth bell made him growl in frustration. _

_"I'm comin'! I can hear ya just fine!" he called, reaching for the knob. He opened it to find his brother looking down at a sunflower in his hand. Alfred froze._

_"H-hey Mattie!" he laughed, a bit unnerved. "Uh…where'd ya get that flower?"_

_Matthew kept his head down, answering in his usual quiet tone, a bit of a waver in his voice. "Found it on your doorstep. Thought it was special."_

_Alfred took it and examined it with distaste, tossing it behind him before turning back to Matthew. "Well, you're not wrong. What's up?" Alfred leaned against the doorframe, regarding his brother with playful eyes, frowning as he remained silent. "Mattie?"_

_"Alfred…" Matthew pursed his lips, taking a breath to speak but only letting it out in a quivering sigh. Alfred snickered and thumped his brother on the head._

_"C'mon Mattie, talk to me. Wanna come inside?" Alfred stepped aside but Matthew remained where he was. Alfred scowled. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"_

_Matthew shook his head, the little stuffed polar bear he always carried hung at his side, clutched in his quivering fist. Matthew was usually quiet, rarely spoke any louder than a whisper, but this was different. His shoulders were hunched, his fists clenched, biting his trembling bottom lip and shivering all over._

_"Mattie?" Alfred placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, Matthew jumping slightly at the contact. "What is it, man? You look like you're gonna cry."_

_Another minute of shuddering breaths and Matthew turned his splotchy, tear-streaked face up, his voice barely audible through the tears in his throat. "Alfred…mom's dead," he whimpered, bringing his hand against his mouth to hold back a sob. Alfred could only stared wide-eyed at his brother, try to process what he'd just said as he thought he'd misheard. However, Matthew's horror-struck faced said otherwise. Alfred shook his head, still refusing to believe._

_"What?"_

_"She's dead," he sobbed, his hand unable to conceal the sound. "They found her just a couple blocks from home. She'd gone to get groceries and—" his words were swallowed by tears, bringing both hands against his mouth. _

_Alfred watched in stunned silence as his brother fell apart, tears rushing down his face, practically choking on his sobs. Alfred opened his arms and said, "Oh, Mattie." His brother collapsed into him, knotting his hands in his quickly dampened shirt. Alfred waited for his own tears, but his cheek remained dry, and was instead filled with a suffocating sense of remorse. He couldn't help but feel responsible as he looked to the flower he'd thrown to the ground._

_~._

Insistent shaking roused Alfred from his dream, looking lazily at a worried man in an apron.

"Sir, are you alright? You've been asleep for a while now." Alfred nodded absently, pushing himself out of his chair as the sounds of reality once again filled his ears.

"M'fine. Little hungover." He grinned, grabbing the card from the table and stuffing it in his pocket before quickly ducking out of the shop.

He sighed as he entered the apartment, letting his head fall into his hands as he sat on the couch. He reached for the TV remote, his searching fingers instead finding soft, warm fur. He jumped and raised his head, meeting the green eyes of a cat. Alfred blinked, stunned for a moment before bursting into laugher. The cat had eyebrows! Fucking eyebrows! Thick eyebrows that looked like something someone had scribbled on with marker. Alfred picked up the cat and held it above him, chuckling.

"Hey there, kitty, kitty. Where've you been hiding?" The cat squirmed in Alfred's gasping, falling into his lap. It turned, still sitting in his lap but with his back to him, wrapping his tail around himself. Alfred laughed, playing with the cat's tail, who, in return, gave him a dirty look. He didn't even think cats could do that.

"Aww, what's wrong kitty? Am I buggin' ya?" The cat simply turned away, flicking his tail. Alfred laughed, and scooped him up, cradling the cat and poking at his soft stomach. "Oh, who's a pissy kitty?" The cat made a grunting noise, another laugh rippling through Alfred.

"Where the bloody hell did you get a cat?"

Alfred looked up to see Arthur in the doorway dressed in a suit with briefcase in hand. Alfred felt a blush bite at his cheeks. The man looked damn good in a suit. Arthur looked perplexingly at the cat in Alfred's arms, shutting the door and tossing his briefcase on a side table.

"Isn't this your cat?" Alfred asked, tilting his head.

"Of course not. Don't you think you would've seen a cat wondering around?" Arthur asked, a grin playing beneath his scowl.

"Well I just figured he was shy. Huh kitty, kitty?" The cat bat at his fingers as he twirled them above his head, making Alfred laugh.

"He must be one of Heracles' cats. He's got so many one was bound to get out." Arthur walked over, loosening his tie and leaning over the cat.

"Aww, c'mon he's _got _to be yours. Look!" Alfred held the cat up in front of Arthur. "He's got your eyebrows!" Arthur sighed and picked the cat up, examining him.

"Just because it's a cat with eyebrows doesn't mean it's mine." The two seemed to scowl at each other as Arthur held him at arms length. Alfred shrugged.

"It's cool if you drew 'em on. I won't judge." Arthur rolled his eyes and dropped the cat back on Alfred.

"It's not my bloody cat," he scowled, the cat crawling up to sit on Alfred's head. Alfred laughed and pointed.

"Look! Cat Hat!" Arthur chuckled despite himself, petting the cat's head.

"Yes, yes, very funny, but we need to get him home." Arthur leaned down, face to face with the cat. "How'd you get in my house, you little bugger?" The cat swatted at Arthur, scratching across his nose. Arthur cried out in surprise and stumbled back, falling over the table and landing on his head.

"Arthur!" Alfred sprang up, running around the table to help Arthur, who was blinking stars out of his eyes, blooding running down the front of his face. "Don't worry Arthur, I'll save you!" Alfred dragged him into the kitchen, dropping him on the floor and searching through the cabinets. Arthur sat up and rubbed his head as Alfred tossed various bottles out of the cabinet. One hit Arthur in the head, turning to scowl at Alfred when he fell to his knees beside him, dabbing at his nose with a wad of napkins. Arthur sputtered and swatted him away.

"I can take care of myself," he grumbled, Alfred already dumping ointment in his hand.

"But you'll get cat back fever!" Alfred pouted. "What am I gonna do if you turn into a cat?"

"Alfred, do you ever listen when you talk?"

"I don't want you to be a cat!"

"There is _no _such thing as "Cat Back Fever", it's "Cat Scra—"

"Liar! I saw it on TV! This lady turned into a cat!"

"What on Earth were you watching?—Oi!" Alfred slammed his open palm, full of ointment, into Arthur's nose. Arthur rolled back, clutching at his nose and grunting in pain. "That HURT you GIT!"

"Sorry! Let me try again!"

"No! Get away from me!"

"Let me help!"

"I can do it myself!" Arthur made to stand, knocked back to the ground by a tackle from Alfred who promptly sat on him, grinning down triumphantly with the cat still resting blissfully on his head. Arthur bit his lip to keep from laughing, trying to stay angry.

"Here!" He shoved his hand down, stopped as Arthur grabbed his wrist and held it inches from is face. Alfred scowled. "I'm just trying to help!"

"You're making it worse!"

"You're so mean! Why won't you let me help you?" Alfred pouted and squirmed, sending a jolt through Arthur.

"_Please_ don't do that," Arthur grunted, biting his lip.

"Do what? This?" Alfred jostled his hips again, a blush coloring Arthur's cheeks.

"Am I bugging you?"

"Alfred, stop."

"Let me help and I will."

"No, Alfred—"

"C'mon. Let me help."

"Damn it, I said stop—"

"Arthur, may I borrow—" Francis opened the door, blinking back at the scene before him: Alfred straddling Arthur with some sort of strange goo covering his hand. He snickered and stepped back into the hall. "_Désolé, _I did not mean to interrupt. I'll come back later." The cat leaped off Alfred's head, trotting out the door before Francis pulled it shut.

Arthur sighed as Francis closed the door and Alfred became aware of something hard pressing against his groin. He looked down and gasped, bring his face closer to Arthur's.

"You like Francis!"

"Oh my God," Arthur grumbled, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "No Alfred, I don't like Francis."

"Liar! I can see it!" Alfred's eyes glittered, a wicked grin stretched across his face.

"You're so thick!" Arthur scowled wiping the blood rolling down his cheek. "Hand me a napkin, will you?"

"No. You have to admit it first."

"Alfred—"

"Say it!"

"Alfred, I don't—"

"Don't deny your feelings of love!"

Arthur pushed himself up on his elbows, scowling into Alfred's face. "I don't like Francis."

Alfred scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh really? Why not?"

"I just don't"

"That's not a good reason."

"Alfred I don't like him."

"Why not?"

"Alfred—"

"Tell me, why not?"

"Can you drop—"

"No, tell me why."

"I don't need to explain mys—"

"Tell me!"

"Alfred—!"

"Tell me!"

"Alfred sto—"

"Tellmetellmetellmetellme—"

"Because I like _you_!"

Alfred blinked, staring silently as a blush crept across Arthur's own shocked face and down his neck, turning him bright red. Arthur tried to speak a couple times, only a rather small squeak escaping, Alfred staring incomprehensively. The silence made Arthur squirm, searching for a way to bounce back, to wave it off. Eventually he managed a lame "Uh…no…. I mean…" and looked away, rubbing his lips together. "Can you please get off me?"

Alfred continued to stare for a moment, slowly processing what Arthur just said. After several minutes of silence, he managed to move his mouth. "What?"

Arthur turned back, scowling as best he could at Alfred. "I said get off me, you twit."

Alfred cocked his head, eyes still wide with confusion. "No, before that. Say it again."

"What? No! Get off me!"

"No, say it!"

"Alfred—" Alfred suddenly lowered himself, lying on top of Arthur, glaring at him from hardly an inch away. Arthur squirmed, trying to wiggle away but the man was too heavy. "Get off me!"

"No," Alfred pouted, defiantly forcing himself on Arthur. "Say it again."

"Alfred, my nose—"

"Say it again."

"Why are you so—"

"Arthur."

"Would you let me finish a bloody se—Ah!" Alfred had arched himself up enough to reach Arthur pants, using his dry hand to toy with his bulge. Arthur jumped and gasped, trying to scoot away, Alfred's light strokes sending shivers through him.

"Stop that!"

"Say it again."

"Damn it A—ah!"

"C'mon. Or you wanna ruin your fancy pants?" Alfred grinned cheekily at Arthur, the glimmer in his eye turned fiendish. Alfred nipped at the base of Arthur's neck, receiving a suppressed moan. He began tugging at Arthur's belt—

"Stop, stop! Okay!" Alfred glanced up at Arthur, his eyes closed in embarrassment against his scarlet face. "I like you. I…like you." He breathed, looking at Alfred with watery eyes. "Can you get off now?"

Alfred grinned, rolling off Arthur. Arthur sat up holding his nose, pushing himself up shakily.

"I can help ya if ya want," Alfred offered cheerily. Arthur carefully kept his gaze away from Alfred, studying the cabinets as he stood.

"My nose can wait," he mumbled, shoving fresh napkins against his nose before trudging out of the kitchen.

"I wasn't talking about your nose," Alfred snickered. Arthur turned down the hall in silence, the slam of his door making Alfred laugh.

Alfred stood and stretch, a goofy smile still plastered across his face as he washed the ointment from his hand. He felt light and giggly, like at any moment he could float up and touch the ceiling. He finally knew who Arthur likes! And it was him! That's so cute! He considered knocking on Arthur's door and offering his assistance again, laughing as he thought of Arthur's irritated blush. The fading light of the sun seemed make the cabinets glow, reinforcing Alfred's giddiness. He hopped up on the counter, swinging his legs. Everything seemed brighter and sweeter and oh fuck that little shit better be lying.

Alfred fixed his stare on the oven's clock, displaying the time: 6:37. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What's another word? Shit! No, that doesn't quite do it. FUCK.

Alfred stomped off the counter, slamming his palm against the digital little shit. How could it be six already? It couldn't have been later than noon when he left the apartment, and he was only with Ivan about half an hour. Had he really slept so long in that shop?

Alfred groaned and turned to the sink, gripping the edge of the counter as his stomach lurched. He'd rather vomit than find the address etched on that damn card. Once the queasiness had passed, he sighed and looked out the window, the glow from the sun illuminating the tops of buildings. Somewhere throughout the afternoon, it'd managed to outrun the clouds, gathering the city in its gentle embrace. But now, with nowhere left to run, the clouds devoured the last of its light, leaving the city in bleak shadow. The card burned in Alfred's pocket. He'd been careful to keep it away from the pocket he kept his brother's locket in. He'd worked too hard to keep that man away from Mattie; even a gift from his brother seemed risky, as though a touch or a glance could doom him. Alfred pulled the locket from his pocket, eyes still on the horizon as he felt the weight of it in his hand. He couldn't go to Ivan with it. If he found it…

He felt a little weird without it, but it was best to leave it here. He placed on his dresser in a little glass multicolor heart that looked as though it were painted by a five year old. Alfred thought it was cute.

He shifted from foot to foot in front of Arthur's door, debating whether or not to tell him. He could just leave and sneak back in later… But that would probably worry him. He could always not go… No. Stupid. For all Alfred knew, that man had implanted a GPS inside him or something. Maybe he was magic. Shivering at the thought of Ivan in possession of magic, Alfred quickly knocked on Arthur's door.

"What?!" came an irritated voice. "If you're just here to laugh—"

"No, this is serious, promise! Um…" He stared at the closed door, chewing on his lip. Arthur remained silent. "I have to go out for a while."

"Out? For what?"

"I…I forgot to get the stuff you asked about. Haha…sorry."

Arthur sounded a bit worried as he responded. "Alright. Be safe."

"Sure…" Alfred mumbled, trudging down the hall.

~.

Alfred glared at the building looming before him, so tall the top vanished into the black clouds. It was surprisingly close to his apartment—the walk couldn't have been more than a ten-minutes. He didn't like having Ivan so close, the very thought sending chills down his spine. On shaky legs he forced himself inside, glancing around the lobby for a clock. 6:58. Well, he was on time.

He approached the front desk, deserted and rather dark, save a monitor spilling blue light over the little space. Alfred rang the bell, the high-pitched chime reverberating throughout the silent room. He rubbed his lips together, drumming his fingers on the desk as the chime faded and the room was once again silent. Another moment and a timid young boy dashed out of a room further down the hall, stopping in front of Alfred with wide eyes and a clipboard clutched to his chest.

"You are Mr. Jones?" He asked, visibly trembling as he looked up at Alfred. Alfred stiffly nodded. "This way please." He spun, guiding Alfred down the corridor he'd come from and into an elevator. The boy punched a button and the doors closed, bringing them skyward. Alfred glanced over, the boy staring determinately at his feet. Alfred reached out to touch his shoulder, the boy jumping at the contact.

"What's your name?" he asked. The boy pursed his lips, shivering as though he stood in a blizzard. "What're you so afraid of?" The boy only shook his head.

Another awkward moment of silence and the doors opened to a wall of glass overlooking the murky town. Ivan had his back to them, looking out the windows from behind a rather large, half circle of a desk. The boy pushed Alfred out of the elevator and punched another button, the doors closing with a muffled thud.

Alfred glanced around the office, unsure if he should announce himself or silently wait for Ivan to turn. He reached into his pocket, remembering that he'd left the locket at the apartment. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, regretting leaving it behind. His heart hammered, his hands shook, and Ivan finally turned, his strange eyes seeming to glow against his silhouette.

"Welcome to the Braginski empire!" he laughed, waving his arm around the space of his office. "Do you like? I just moved in last year. We were thinking of buying out…Oh, but that doesn't matter. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the lavish seats around his desk, sitting in his own plump chair. Alfred hesitated for a moment before taking one, surprised by how comfy they were.

"Wow!" he said out loud, rubbing the armrest. "These are really nice! What is this, velvet?" Ivan nodded.

"Imported!" he chimed, sitting back in his chair and gazing at Alfred with an amused smile. Alfred suddenly became conscious of what he was doing, quickly sitting straight and folding his hands in his lap, steadily meeting the Russian's gaze as he tried to hold back an embarrassed blush. Ivan laughed.

"It is all right. They are very nice chairs. I want my guests to be comfortable," he smiled again, playfully. Alfred smiled nervously back. Behind him, he heard the elevator ring but didn't turn to see who had arrived. Ivan paid no mind to it, keeping his gaze on Alfred. Ivan leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, pressing his lips against his clasped hands.

"Now, of your payment," he began. "We have already taken money out of the equation. However, I pay very high to my mercenaries and I am always in need of hitmen." He looked expectantly at Alfred.

"Oh, I can't hit the blindside of a barn. I accidently shot M—uh… a…close friend of mine once when I got into my stepdad's gun stash."

Ivan's eyes flashed dangerously. "You have a stepfather?"

"Had," he corrected. "He passed on when I was twelve." The flame in Ivan's eyes died down.

"Pity," he sighed. "There is always office work. Though, with your debt, it is doubtful that it may ever be paid off. Would you like to try?"

"I guess… I've never really thought of myself as working in a cubical."

Ivan shook his head. "No. It does not fit you. I have enough workers; one more will make no difference to me. Hmm…" A sudden flash made Alfred jump, quickly followed by a clap of thunder. Ivan laughed.

"Afraid of thunder?"

"No, it just…shocked me," he laughed, glancing away. Ivan's smile grew.

"I believe I know a way to settle your debt. It is quite brilliant."

Alfred eyed Ivan, frowning. "What is it?"

A cloth came against Alfred's mouth, making it hard to breath. Alfred screamed and pulled at the hand, but it was strong and held him. He started to squirm but pair of arms quickly wrapped around him, holding his against his chair. Spots danced before Alfred's eyes, struggling to take each breath, his limbs growing tired and heavy. He glanced at Ivan's playful smile before the world fell away.

_~._

The shadows clouding his blurry vision slowly faded, his droopy eyes met with a bright, bare bulb against a white ceiling, bits of dust caught in the light as they skipped around the glow. Alfred groaned, moving his hand to rub his tired eyes, only to find it trapped above him. He looked up, his hands tangled in thick, frayed rope that dug into his wrists. They wrapped around a thin iron pole, several other identical ones running to either side. Alfred let his head fall back, realizing he was lying in some sort of bed with sheets that made his back itch. Wait…

Alfred squirmed, the sheets scraping against his back, his legs, and several other places that they should not be touching.

Yup.

Naked.

Great. Wonderful.

Alfred sighed and looked around, painfully twisting at his binding at a futile attempt to loosen them. The room was utterly bare, save a nightstand with an unlit lamp and a man in a chair, reading a book with a large, clear bottle hanging loosely in his left hand. He looked over at Alfred, smiling as he closed the book.

"_Chelovek v futlyare," _he grinned, placing it on the nightstand. "_The Man in a Shell. _Have you ever read Chekhov?"

"Check off? Like a check off list?" Ivan laughed, shaking his head.

"_Net, moy kollega, _he is a writer."

"I didn't know lists could write books. That's pretty damn amazing!" Ivan laughed again, leaving the bottle by the leg of his chair. "Hey, what's up with this?" Alfred pulled at his bindings, wincing as they pinched his wrists. "Kinda hurts."

"Well, of course they are necessary. I can't have you running away _moy drug_."

"What?" Ivan removed his jacket placing it across this chair. "Hey, man this isn't funny. Seriously, let me go. I thought we were gonna talk about payments a shit."

"This is payment," he grinned, climbing up to straddle Alfred. "You did not think of this option?"

"What? Okay, dude, stop…" Alfred craned his neck away as Ivan bent down to kiss it, running the edge of his teeth against the line of Alfred's jaw. Something hard pressed against him, making Alfred squirm uncomfortably. He tried to use his bindings to pull himself away but Ivan was heavy, his weight firmly pressed against Alfred's thighs.

"Okay, jokes over. Let me go." Ivan only chuckled at Alfred's flustered expression, trailing his fingers down Alfred's chest. He swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing becoming panicked. Ivan sat up to pull his shirt off tossing it carelessly to the floor before going back to work on Alfred. He tried to shake Ivan off, only managing to brush the bulge in Ivan's pants and Alfred had to bit his lip to hold back a cry.

_"Vy teperʹ moya," _he mumbled, gripping Alfred's hips. Alfred had to swallow a few times before he found his voice, and even then it was shaky.

"What? What's that mean?"

Ivan looked up, holding Alfred's nipple between his teeth, making Alfred jump in a strange jolt of pleasure.

"You are mine now," he whispered, letting his hands wonder further down Alfred's torso. He wrapped his hand around Alfred's shaft, making him gasp and buck as Ivan gave a sudden squeeze.

"The fuck, man? This isn't funny. Knock it off!" Ivan grabbed Alfred's chin, forcing him to look to Ivan in the eye. Ivan's smile was small, playful and amused bit more than slightly irritated.

"Could you not understand me? Is my English that bad?" he chuckled, so close Alfred could feel his icy breath against his cheeks. "Let me try again. You. Belong. To me. You understand me now, _da?_ Slow enough for you?_"_ Alfred kept silent, Ivan's nails digging into his chin. "I will do as I please and you will be silent. This, I will take as payment."

Alfred ground his teeth, Ivan's piercing gaze driving the words from his throat. Once he'd released him, Alfred found his voice. "I never agreed to this! This is rape! I'll—" Ivan smacked him across the face. Alfred had to blink a couple times before he could see straight again.

"I asked you to be silent," Ivan's usually joyful tone turned cold, a soft hiss looming above him, sitting straight to block the light and coating Alfred in his shadow. "I will warn you once. Any further resistance will be reprimanded." He squeezed Alfred again, receiving a soft whimper in return. "You wouldn't want to loose something precious," he sneered.

Alfred locked his jaw, staring fixedly at the ceiling as Ivan played with him, toying between pleasure and pain as he indulged himself in Alfred's reactions. He tried to suppress it, to bite back the irritating moans and gasps that rose in his throat, but Ivan poked and teased and pinched them out, the indignant blush that burned Alfred's cheeks only adding to his humiliation. Before long Alfred was covered in marks, Ivan sitting back every so often to admire his work.

He wanted to scream and kick Ivan in the face, wanted to break his nose, tear off the bindings and dart out the door, run as far as he could, naked or not. He found himself thinking of Arthur, of how Alfred would arrive, covered in bruises and bites and sobbing uncontrollably. How Arthur would ask what was wrong, comfort him, promise him it would never happen again, to call the police. But the police wouldn't help. Alfred already knew that. He'd tried once, as a way out, but Ivan's position was far too high to have any real effect. A few smooth words and quite a larger sum of money later and any evidence they'd gathered was gone, coming to Alfred with empty hands, saying the man was clean and not to involve them in such cruel pranks unless he was looking to be arrested himself.

His thoughts lingered on Arthur, beginning to wonder what he'd be like as a lover. He was so awkward and always flustered. Sensitive too. He'd be tiny in Alfred's arms, his fragile little body gasping beneath him, blushing as he'd bring his arms up to cover his face in embarrassment. And Alfred would move his hands and kiss him, tell him not to be shy as he cried out. Alfred found himself getting aroused, his imagination getting the better of him. Ivan's chuckle brought him back to reality, in the dusty room with the dim light and the smell of mold in the air.

"Finally getting excited?" he lulled, running his tongue along the length of Alfred, receiving an unexpected moan. Alfred bit his lip, trying to clear his head and suppress the noises that bubbled on his lips. He sunk himself in imagination again, desperately trying to block out Ivan. He almost smiled as he thought of how mad Arthur would be to find Alfred thinking such things. Well, as if he'd ever know, but still. Besides, who's to say Arthur would even want to take it that far?

Alfred suddenly realized he hadn't said anything to Arthur before he'd left, nothing about how he felt about him. He hadn't really thought about it. He tended not to think about these kinds of things; they were always an after thought. He liked to just go with the flow—life was easier when thinking wasn't required. Now he found himself flooded with thoughts, practically drowning in his muddled mind as he found a moment to think. Not exactly an ideal one either, considering a madman currently had his mouth wrapped around his dick.

His thoughts deserted him once again as Ivan pressed a finger against Alfred, making him jump. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it as Ivan dragged his teeth along his cock. He drove a finger in, and another, both moving far too fast for any sort of comfort. Alfred grunted, arching his back and grinding his teeth against the pain. He tried to focus on the pleasure of his front, but sharp pangs of pain still filled him, cries threatened forth as he bit his lip.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ivan removed his fingers. Alfred sighed, his head lolling to the side, nearly whimpering as Ivan withdrew his mouth. Something much larger than fingers was pressed against him and Alfred looked up at Ivan, fear flashing in his eyes as the man grinned down at him.

"What's wrong? Scared?" he purred, watching Alfred with hungry eyes. Alfred stared back at Ivan in stubborn silence. Strangely enough, Ivan still wore his scarf, the end falling to blush against Alfred's stomach. Absently, he wondered if the scarf was attached to him, or if Ivan was cursed and forced to wear it no matter where he went, even in the shower or swimming.

His thoughts curtly shut off as Ivan thrust into him, Alfred unable to hold back his cry. It hurt. It _hurt _damn it! He couldn't stop the strangled, agonizing cries that flew from his throat, tears beginning to roll down the sides of his face. He turned his face away, trying to bury himself in his arm, trying to muffle his screams. But it was no use; they pressed on, turning to a mixture of shout and sob, each thrust sending a new wave of pain through Alfred. He tried to form a sentence, a word, but they all came out as a disgruntled groan. He wanted to kick, to squirm, to pull himself away, but he couldn't find the strength. His entire body was numb with pain, even his screams fading to a breathy whimper, his gaze locked on the abandoned chair, trying to lose himself in imagination again. But even that prove too laborious a task and he let himself be taken, the forceful waves eventually building to pleasure, his grunts turning to soft moans. The heat built to a shameful climax, his body tensing as pleasure was once again replaced with pain. A few more agonizing thrusts and Ivan finished with a grunt, his fingers digging into Alfred's hips.

For a while Ivan sat and looked Alfred over, that ever-present grin stretched across his face. Alfred kept his gaze of the chair, silently urging him to pull back. Finally, Alfred was released, tears still glistening in the edge of his eye. Ivan sat back on his heels, still looking Alfred over. It made him uncomfortable, the sickening grin. He wanted to cover himself, the hide under the covers and forget Ivan and his stupid grin; but the best he could do was turn his face away. Eventually, he became irritated enough to ask.

"Well?" he looked to Ivan, giving him the dirtiest look he could manage covered in sweat and fluids that didn't all belong to him. "You've got your payment. Untie me. I wanna go home." Ivan laughed, bringing himself to lay on top of Alfred, crushing him with his weight.

"Oh no, _glupyy malʹchik, _that was a…let us say, 'installment'."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, fear eating at his stomach. "A what?"

Ivan laughed again. "You did not think one sex time would be enough to pay off millions in debt."

"I don't know, I'd say I'm worth a million or so."

Ivan's smile turned sinister, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Perhaps, to some, but not to me. I'm going to need more."

Alfred scowled. "What, like another go? Look, I'm kinda drained right now…" Ivan smirked.

"Of course, not now. Let us say…you come back every other day until I grow tired. Then it will be repaid."

Alfred's jaw fell open. Every other day?! He couldn't do this every other _week. _"No way. Once a month."

Ivan's smiled wavered. "You wish to bargain? Do you really think you're in such a position to—"

"Look buddy, my ass ain't up for this every other damn day. I'll split in two before I'm anywhere near payin' this shit off. Once a month."

Ivan's smile dropped to a pout. "Three times a week."

"Twice a month."

"Twice a _week."_

"Three times a month."

"Once a week. This is my final offer and I will not take any others."

Alfred sighed. Well, it's somethin'. "Alright. Once a week."

Ivan's smile returned. "Every Monday then. You will be here no later than 7 o'clock and I will do as I want as long as I want."

"No way, you get an hour."

"Two."

"Fuck you."

Ivan grabbed Alfred's chin, eyes flashing above his sickening grin. "You watch your mouth," he growled. "Two hour minimum. That should suffice, _da?" _Ivan crushed his chin, forcing it up. Even if Alfred wanted to answer he wouldn't have been able to move his jaw. Ivan smirked triumphantly.

"Then we have a deal."

~.

Outside it was dark and raining, the only light to guide Alfred home being the glow from shop windows and streetlamps at the edge of the road. He dunked from awning to awning, keeping as dry as he could. Each step was agony, pain shooting up his spine as he tried to cover a limp. He'd tried sitting on the ledge of a shop window but that'd only made it ten times worse. He remembered to stop in a convenience store, pulling out the list still shoved in his pocket and retrieving the things Arthur had forgotten before continuing to the apartment.

Alfred slowly walked down the hall, unusually lively considering it was long past midnight. He could hear Francis screaming something in French from what he assumed as either Gilbert's or Antonio's apartment, angry metal music blasting through speakers along with the sound of cheers and out-of-tune singing. Across the hall were the sounds of guitar and singing in a pretty language Alfred couldn't identify. Italian? Spanish? He didn't know. Only half cared, really. The smoke from the door labeled "1420" no longer bothered him, becoming a rather common sight that Arthur said not to worry about.

A man wearing a blanket around his waist burst from the door next to it, practically bowling Alfred over in the process. He sprinted down the hall, pursued by a taller man, beer in hand and shirt tied around his forehead. He, unlike the last man, smacked into Alfred, sending this both sprawling on the floor, shattering his beer in the process. Without even a glance to Alfred he pushed himself up, scurrying down the hall.

"WAIT LUKAS. LET ME LOVE YOU!"

"GET AWAY FROM ME."

"WHY WON'T YOU ACCEPT ME?"

"FUCK YOURSELF."

Another man appeared, really more a boy than a man, leaning down to help Alfred up. "I am so sorry, please, forgive them they—MATHIAS. GET BACK HERE AND APOLOGIZE."

Alfred waved him away, letting the man help him to his feet. "That's alright, really." He nodded before running after the two, now battling between the doors of the elevator. Alfred watched them for a minute before looking in the apartment, one man standing by the door, looking down the hall but making no move to follow, and another, scarier looking man further back, freezing Alfred with a stare. He held him for a minute before looking away to take a drink of his beer.

"D'n't mind th'm. One's drunk 'n th' ot'er's losin' h's mind." Alfred nodded absently before continuing down the hall.

Relieved, he finally opened the door to Arthur's apartment, tossing the groceries on the couch. The lights were off save the lamp on Arthur's desk, papers scattered about the desk itself with the open laptop sending bright light across Arthur's sleeping figure. His tie lay abandoned on the floor, his shirt undone and hanging off his shoulders, one arm cushioning his head on the desk, the other dangling by his side. In the time Alfred had been gone he'd fixed up his nose, several band-aids taped across it.

Reluctantly, Alfred shook his shoulder. Arthur sighed in his sleep, remaining still except for a twitch in his left hand. Alfred shook him again.

"Arthur," he whispered, leaning closer to his ear. "I think a bed would be comfier." He mumbled something too soft for Alfred to hear. "What?" No response. He half considered slamming the laptop on his head but thought it too mean. Besides, he looked kinda cute when he was sleeping. Maybe he should carry him. Arthur'd probably get all mad and embarrassed if he woke up. Alfred chuckled at the thought. At the sound, Arthur stirred, opening an eye.

"Alfred," he mumbled, pushing himself up. His cheek had an indentation from where the edge of the computer had dug in. Hair ruffled, droopy eyes, rumpled clothes, he looked exhausted. Alfred frowned.

"What's wrong? You look like hell." Arthur passed a hand over his face, stretching with a groan.

"Long night." He looked back at the papers in disgust. "Bloody hell. I'm still not done," he frowned, looking to the corner of the screen for the time. "Did you just get home?" He asked, turning to look at Alfred quizzically. Alfred smiled awkwardly.

"I uh…got lost."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I…well…ran into someone. An old f…riend."

"Oh," Arthur said a bit too lightly, turning back to his computer. "Well, it's late. Why don't you get to bed?"

"Aren't you going too?"

"Of course not. I'm busy."

"You can finish it later."

"I most certainly cannot! I'll be drowning if papers if I'm to leave it now."

"I think you already are," Alfred scowled, poking at a stack near the edge of the desk. "C'mon man, why donchu take a break? You're exhausted." Arthur shook his head, glaring at the computer.

"I'm fine. I just need a bit of tea to keep me up."

"Coffee'd be better."

"I prefer tea."

"I'm just sayin' it'd keep you up lo—"

"Shut it," Arthur mumbled, pushing his chair back. He stood and turned toward the kitchen, stumbling into the desk as stars danced before his eyes. Alfred jumped up to steady him, Arthur falling stunned against him.

"I think you should go to bed."

"I'm fine!" he scowled almost breathlessly. Alfred held him until his sight returned, Arthur quickly blushing and pushing Alfred away. "I'm fine," he repeated, "just stood up too fast…" Alfred frowned and closed Arthur's laptop. "Hey!" Arthur made to open it again but Alfred caught his wrist, forcing Arthur to step back as he advanced on him.

"Time for bed."

"What are you doing?"

"C'mon, beddy-by."

"Beddy-what?"

"Let's go."

"I have work to do!"

"Do it later."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can."

"Alfred—!" He cut his off with a kiss, hard and quick but enough to shut him up. Alfred released him, Arthur blushing and looking away as Alfred spun him around and herded him down the hall. "I wish you would quit that."

"Why?" Alfred asked innocently, peeking over Arthur's shoulder. "You like me, doncha?"

Arthur scowled, folding his arms. "That doesn't mean you're obliged to indulge me." Alfred laughed, throwing his arms around Arthur and hugging him tightly.

"But I like you too," he grinned, looking at Arthur over his shoulder. "So it's cool, right?" Arthur looked dumbfounded, staring back at Alfred in disbelief. Alfred waited patiently to let it sink in.

"Wait…so…" Arthur began, but couldn't seem to find his words, moving his lips against silent words.

"Is that bad?"

"No…I just…didn't think…" Arthur bit his lip and looked away, trying to gather his thoughts. "I thought…well, you left and I didn't think you'd be coming back. I thought I'd scared you…when I said…." Arthur chewed on his lip, Alfred nuzzling his neck as it burned red.

"Nah takes a lot more than that to chase me off. Just took a while to sink in," Alfred lulled, breathing deeply as he caught the scent of spices and tea in Arthur's hair. "I was thinkin' about it while I was out and I realized I think about you a lot," he grinned as Arthur met his eyes again. "My brother always used to tell me I need to listen to what people say more often or I could end up hurtin' 'em with misin…misinter…uh..."

"Misinterpretations."

"Yeah, that," Alfred laughed, a ghost of a smile hovering on Arthur's lips.

"Then…you…so that means…"

"This," Alfred smirked playfully, pulling Arthur's chin closer in a gentle, much more sincere kiss. He ran his tongue over Arthur's lips, Arthur slowly giving in as he opened wider to let Alfred in. Arthur tentatively placed a hand against Alfred's cheek, a soft moan escaping as the touch made Alfred deepen the kiss. Alfred felt that light bubbly feeling building in his chest again, as though they were buoyant, floating through the air, connected by a kiss.

Arthur was the one to break it, pulling away breathless and blushing but looking Alfred in the eye. "I…should get to bed," he laughed awkwardly as he reached for his door, pausing at the handle. "Goodnight, Alfred," he said, throwing a grin over his shoulder before ducking into his room.

Alfred squirmed as his pants grew tighter.

* * *

Translation Notes:

_Net, moy kollega- _no, my friend/colleague

_moy drug- _my friend/mate/lover/chum

_glupyy malʹchik-_silly boy

Again, please excuse the Russian if it is off or translated incorrectly. I don't know Russian so I can't tell ;_;

_Thank you to those you reviewed! I appreciate the feed back (^_^) And for the record, I think tea is better than coffee. Sorry but tea is freakin' delicious. Especially green tea. Yum_ \(^_^)/ _Sorry this chapter took longer than usual, but it's a long chapter :D Yay! I hope you all enjoyed it. I've been thinking of writing a GerIta story lately that takes places in the same universe, but I'm not sure yet. We'll see (^_^) I also added the scene about the Nordics because I've been reading the Deal-With-Sealand tumblr lately and it's just so cute! Gah! It gave me an idea for a DenNor fic (I know, a little weird cuz the tumblr is Sealand, Sweden, and Finland…I don't understand how my brain operates either) Again, though, that story is just floating thoughts at the moment. Who knows what the future may hold :O. Alright, enough of my rambling. See you all in the next chapter (hopefully!). Thanks for reading :D_


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